


Charles Vane, of the Ranger

by AugustStories



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Golden Age of Piracy, Pirates, Sea Battles, The Ranger - Freeform, ranger crew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-08 01:01:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19860964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AugustStories/pseuds/AugustStories
Summary: A glimpse into times when life was still easier for the Ranger Crew and especially their Captain.





	Charles Vane, of the Ranger

**Author's Note:**

> Black Sails is one of my favourite shows that I rewatch often. But it mostly also falls into the category where I enjoy a show without having any desire to write something. This here is the bigger part of a birthday present I wrote for a friend last year. And though I want to keep the other parts private, I thought I could post this as a little Oneshot.

"SAILS!"

The deck of the ship exploded into a well trained flurry of activity, men and boys rushing to their positions, manning the guns and climbing up the mast to reach the sails, the dominant fighters readying themselves even before the orders came.

On the quarterdeck the door of the Captain's Cabin opened and the man stepping out behind a cloud of smoke from his cheroot had no obstacles in his path up to the top deck despite the busy crew, no one would ever dare to hinder his steps. A buson handed the spyglass over just as the door of the Captain's quarters opened once more, revealing a lean man with fluffed up black hair and a gray tailored coat.

"What is it?" He called up to his Captain who raised a hand for patience, the cheroot dangling from it, his other hand was holding up the spyglass to his right eye, the crew paused in their actions as well, eyes drawn to the broad shoulders of their Captain, especially to the as of yet non-existing tension in them. When the spyglass got lowered and then handed back, a thud was the first sound to break the silence as a skinny figure with red hair hidden beneath a worn out hat jumped down from the main mast and landed with both hands on the hilts of the cutlasses attached to the belt.

"Hunt her down," were the only words the Captain said before he raised the cheroot back to his lips, the crew jumped back into motion with even more eagerness, boisterous laughter of anticipation mixing into the commands being yelled up to the boys up in the sails.

The name of this ship was the Ranger, a fine vessel and one of the rarest of her kind, because she was a special ship, a beautiful special ship with a dedicated Captain and a loyal crew who were bound together for a common cause. The Ranger didn't have the biggest ship, not the most guns, not the largest sails, was not even the quickest and certainly not the most lawful one.

The Ranger was not a Dutch merchant ship or a West India vessel, she didn't belong to the English or Spanish Navy.

The Ranger was a hunter.

And her crew were pirates.

Sailing under the flag of Captain Charles Vane.

"Get us alongside," Captain Vane ordered his navigator as he snipped the remainder of his cigar over board and then swung himself down onto the quarterdeck again, "Get us faster, I want us at six knots in this wind." The crew called out their understanding and hurried to obey, Vane was respected by all of them, for his ferocity, for his ruthlessness regarding slavers and the Spanish and most of all for his loyalty towards them.

No man got left behind.

Whether they died in a raid or got taken hostage, Vane left no man on enemy ships.

They showed their gratitude in being limitlessly loyal to their Captain, even when the rumors over them grew into the fantastical, most of them rubbish.

"Get the vanguard ready!"

The Ranger was an exception among the pirate crews who sailed from the sanctuary of Nassau Port, not that other crews weren't loyal to their Captain as well or had a similar dangerous and victorious reputation, the Walrus under Captain Flint came to mind or the true animals on the Fancy below Captain Low, or even the crews of the fleet that Blackbeard commandeered from Ocracoke.

And still the crew of Captain Vane was something exceptional.

Led by a Captain who had no origins as far as people were concerned, barely anyone knowing about his past as a slave who had been freed by the pirate of all pirates, who had seen the Golden Age of Piracy begin on a glorious ship under the flag of Henry Avery. Vane had grown past the terror of slavery and exploitation under the guiding hand of Edward Teach who himself had commanded a ship in Avery's fleet before making his own path.

Led by a Quartermaster who lacked true fighting skills and was still loved and admired by a crew of roughspun men. Jack Rackham, certainly the most fashionable of all pirates with cuffed hair, neatly trimmed sideburns and colorful calico cut coats, had a silver tongue and not a few people said he had simply talked whole merchant crews into not only giving up their cargo but their loyalty to their own captain as well. Having grown up in a well off working class family in England, Rackham was educated and rather unusually well mannered for a pirate, a man who had wanted more than take over his father's business, who had wanted his name to be known in the world and who had stumbled rather on accident into the world of pirates and onto Charles Vane's ship.

And he hadn't been alone.

Ever in his shadows, ever with eyes at least partly watching his back, Rackham's partner was by far the most feared crew member on board the Ranger. And a woman. Anne Bonny had been saved by Rackham from her husband's violent hands when she was thirteen, had followed him ever since and found a calling in the life of a pirate, despite certainly being the only woman among them. Vane hadn't cared about stupid sayings and supposed curses in letting a woman join the crew and the crew themselves had after a period of seeing Bonny fight alongside them, fight for them, quickly come to respect her and those who didn't weren't welcomed anymore.

"Ready the hooks and the planks!" Charles Vane snapped in direction of the vanguard members who were already ready for boarding, he himself grabbed the swordbelt one of the cabin boys had fetched for him and then took the two remaining steps to stand next to Jack who was looking out towards the merchant ship they were closing in on fast now. "It's not the Julianna." Jack hummed, behind him Anne raised her head to look at both of them from under the rim of her hat.

"A surprise then, how exciting," Jack intoned and smiled, prompting Charles to roll his eyes and Anne to scoff at the back of a black haired fluffy head. "Well then, what are we still standing around here then." Jack huffed and brushed down a sleeve before turning to the men, "Get ready for boarding!"

"Aye, aye!"

"Dutch or Spanish?" Jack wanted to know from Charles when the men were handled, Charles agreed to the latter while tying his belt and checking over his weapons, as always he would join the vanguard and Jack would take over control of the Ranger. "Means no tobacco but she could still carry something of true value, and they'll fight vicious. Guns loaded and at the ready?"

"Loaded only for now and keep the shutters closed, as you said the Spanish fight vicious but they won't want to loose their ship and we outgun them," Charles reasoned with him and then nodded for Jack to climb upon the foredeck to have the best overview.

He himself climbed onto the lower deck with Anne, both of them grabbing to rope that was handed to them, ready to swing themselves over when the time came. All around them the other fighters were tense in anticipation, blood pumping for a fight and a conquer.

"Steady now, slow her down," came Jack's clear call from higher up and Charles saw the main sails being rolled in again, "I said steady, Mister Davis, we don't want to ram her!" And then waiting again, silence across the decks, ears listening for the sounds of the other ship they were closing in now.

And then came the call that was unmistakable and brought Charles' lips into a smirk even when he wasn't the one yelling them.

"Raise the Black!"

\--

"GO!"

Fighting had always been in Charles' blood, every muscle he had worked and trained himself never sang as beautiful as in a fight on open sea. The wind in his hair, the taste of salt on his lips and the burning of gunfire in his lungs.

Nothing made Charles feel more alive than that, not even sex.

The thrill of wrapping a rope around your wrist, scrambling up onto the rail, swinging over to another ship, listening to the frightened cries and the pained screams, burrying a sword in a man's chest before feet even touched a deck again. Not a breath passed before he was swinging around to take down another sailor with a dagger while his sword was still not free from a dying man's last breath.

There was a pistol on his belt as well but Charles preferred the clash of steel, the feeling of holding a man's last moment in his hands over the distant impact of a bullet. He preferred blood on his hands over gun smoke.

Slash, duck, swing. Repeat.

Blood roaring in his ears, eyes stinging with smoke, blood sprayed on his face and chest, smirk on his lips and his heart pumping with want.

Charles stepped easily out of Anne's way when she danced her deathly steps with two men at once, giving him a free path towards the Captain's Cabin, a free path to his target. No one touched the Captain but Charles Vane himself. Taking the stairs three at a time, Charles climbed back up on the quarterdeck and slammed open the door to the Captain's Cabin, catching the man in question in the middle of burning papers.

A coward then, that made this all easy. A Captain cowering behind closed walls while his crew fought for their lives and ship.

Well then, this one would not die by Charles' hands, he'd let the crew decide what to do with this one, those who would be left anyway, those who wouldn't leave him behind for loyalty and protection and money.

"You can have the ship!" Coward squeaked in Spanish and Charles would have rolled his eyes if he had been in the mood for it, instead he sheathed his cutlass and kept only the dagger as he approached the shaking man with determined steps. The prey had frozen, the predator could play now. Grabbing a fistful of the Spaniard's frilly shirt – Jack would love that shit – Charles pulled the man close, flashing his teeth as he did.

"I don't want your ship," he responded equally in Spanish, "I want my sea freed from cowards like you. I want your cargo. I want your men to see what weak dog they are serving under." And under loud squeaking protests, Charles dragged the man outside, setting the dagger to his throat to shut him the hell up after a moment. Slamming the captain of the La Corona against the railing of the quarterdeck, he yelled loudly for attention, only ever once.

The fighting had already turned into their favor, having never really not been there to be honest, these Spanish hadn't really fought with their heart in it.

"This man here," Charles began and heads whipped up, eyes staring up at him, "he calls himself Captain," his men laughed, the Spanish shifted nervously, somefaces clueless so Charles switched into their tongue, over on the Ranger he saw Jack taking a few steps closer to the railing. "He calls himself the Captain of this ship but he cowered in his cabin while his men fought with blood and sweat. He hid himself behind walls while courageous men faced us and paid in blood, all while he busied himself with burning their logs." Eyes got narrowed, faces turned thunderous.

But not directed at Charles.

On the inside he smiled, you didn't need to kill all souls on board a ship to gain the largest prize.

Below a man lowered his sword and Charles' first impression of him got proven when numerous other Spaniards followed his example, this was the quartermaster.

"Your Captain meant to destroy any hope you had for a future while I took my prize so I ask you what I shall do with him. I ask you to call judgement upon him. I ask you to ask yourself if this is a man you can serve under. Is this a leader you want to follow? Or is this a mistake you should eradicate before you reach for your own future! Your own choices!" The last two sentences having been directed a the quartermaster who in total contrast to his dainty captain looked like a man with battle experience, Anne was still poised halfway behind him, cutlasses dripping with blood. "I will take your cargo, no matter what you do with him, let me be clear on that. But you still have a choice now. You can keep this captain and a battered emptied ship, continue sailing under his pathetic self. You can kill him and I'll leave you your provisions, you can choose a new Captain and sail on your way, find a new contract, find a new route. Or you join me."

He let those words, especially the last two sink in for a moment before he raised the hand still holding the dagger towards where Jack was standing with curious eyes, blood on his shirt where he had seen action as well, seemed some Spanish had managed to get across the planks. "Abandon this man and his cowardice and serve under Charles Vane and Jack Rackham. Join my crew and I promise you a future in Nassau! I promise you freedom and your own choices!"

And then when it was all said and done, Charles waited, eyes flickering up towards Jack who inclined his head to him, a smile dancing in his eyes.

"Send some men over and then cut us loose," Charles called out towards the men moving between the ships as he himself walked back over to the Ranger, the moment his feet stepped back on deck Jack was at his side, frowning at his bloodied shoulder, "It's fine." Evading the for sure coming questions Charles sidestepped his quartermaster and grabbed the spyglass handed to him, lips flickering up into a tiny smirk when Jack muffled a grunt behind him before repeating his orders and going over onto the _La Corona_ himself.

"Nothing to see on the horizon, Captain," his navigator told Charles and still didn't take offense when Charles checked himself again for a moment. It wasn't paranoia, not really, but Charles preferred to sit back and enjoy the aftershocks of a fighting thrill instead of throwing himself right into the next one. It had been a good hunt, no one needed the English now to fuck up the joy of it. "Get us East when we're loose, and then keep it until Jack gives you a course. And make sure their navigator knows what he is doing!"

"Yes, Captain," his navigator agreed and Charles handed the spyglass back to him, he swung himself around and then stalked off towards his cabin.

They were either going to have to come up with a miracle to find the vanished Julianna or decide on a new course, and Charles knew what he preferred.

"And now?" Jack wanted to know when he had followed Charles into his cabin and pushed him down onto his chair behind his desk to tend to the cut on Charles' shoulder, it was deep and he grimaced, that would need their doctor for sure. It had gotten Charles across the scar from a bullet wound a few years ago, the one that had kept him abed for weeks with a fever and infection. "We didn't get the Julianna but we got two other vessels in three days, with quite good prizes."

Charles eyed the maps still strewn across the desk where the two of them had previously tried to figure out why the ship they had been after hadn't been found on her reported route.

"Now, we go home."


End file.
